


Desperate Times

by Pleistocene



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jaime ends up back in The Big House, Machiavellian Tywin is my favourite Tywin, So does Brienne, Tywin to the Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pleistocene/pseuds/Pleistocene
Summary: Jaime runs out of options and calls Tywin. Tywin does what Tywin does best.





	Desperate Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justme (silver_spring)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_spring/gifts).



> This little piece is a very belated gift for justme (silver_spring) which I finally tidied up enough to post. It is a continuation of her wonderful fic 'An unexpected Valentine's' which made me laugh and still does!

The phone on the elegant leather topped desk in Tywin Lannister’s office purred quietly. Without raising his eyes from the document in front of him he reached a languid hand over to lift the receiver. “Yes?”

  
“Dad, it’s me, I need your help.” In the background what sounded like some sort of altercation competed with the type of tinny orchestral ‘easy listening’ music normally associated with airport public lounges.

Occasionally, through the course of his life, Tywin Lannister had transit-ed through a public lounge on his way to the far more rarefied and opulent private lounges to which he, naturally, belonged but he still liked to think he was familiar with the concept.

  
Tywin removed his reading glasses, placing them carefully on the desk in front of him before responding.

  
“Oh yes?” he queried gravely.

The Gods-awful din at the other end of the phone rose and fell with a vague syncopation of melody and shouted obscenities whilst the eldest of his sons assembled his words with extreme care.

  
“If you can just come down to the 14th Precinct and bail me out, Dad, I promise I can explain everything.”

  
Tywin’s eyebrows rose infinitesimally as he quietly pressed the mute button to over-ride the automated system recording all his incoming calls.

  
“I’m sure you have an excellent reason for requiring my assistance, Jaime, but I’m rather surprised it’s me you’re calling. Particularly as it’s …” Tywin checked his Patek Phillipe. “ … almost three in the morning.”

  
“Sorry, Dad, but the person I’d usually call is … detained … and you were the only other person I could think of that might still be awake.” Disappointingly, there was an edge of desperation to Jaime’s voice that Tywin found grating. _A Lannister should never succumb to desperation, he told himself, no matter the circumstances._

  
“There’s no need to apologise, Jaime, you’re my son, I’ll be there as soon as possible. I’ll speak to the Commissioner in a moment and I’m sure whatever unpleasantness you’ve found yourself caught up in can be sorted with no need for any publicity.”

  
“There’s just one other thing, Dad, I need you to post bail for Brienne too.”

  
“Brienne?” Tywin enquired mildly.

  
“Brienne. Brienne Tarth. Selwyn Tarth’s daughter. She works for Catelyn Stark and …” Whatever Jaime had been saying was drowned out by the sudden banshee screech of a woman taking strident and profane exception to the presence of police hands upon her person. Hoping that the owner of the voice was not the young woman in question, Tywin held the phone away from his ear for several long seconds before the din desisted.

  
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t catch that, Jaime, you were saying something about Selwyn Tarth’s daughter?”

  
He heard his son take a deep breath and then there was a long pause before the words finally tumbled out. “She’smygirlfriendandIloveherandI’mgoingtomarryherbutfirstwehavetogetoutofjail.”

  
Tywin leaned an elbow on the antique leather desk and rubbed at the sudden pain between his eyes. He sighed. “I take it this ‘Brienne’ is the person you would normally call in such circumstances?” To be fair, he considered, the situation could be far more dire. If this woman was the daughter of Selwyn Tarth, an adequate rather than an astute businessman in Tywin’s opinion, then her birth was entirely unexceptionable. On balance, and until the question was proved otherwise, Tywin was prepared to reserve judgement on the matter of Brienne Tarth and any relationship she might or might not be having with his son and heir.

  
There was a pause before Jaime answered the question. “Yes.”

  
“I take it, therefore, that there have been other occasions on which this poor woman has been called to rescue my heir from the consequences of his own folly?”

  
There was another, slightly longer pause this time and the answer sounded as though it came through gritted teeth. “Yes.”

  
“And yet she continues to tolerate your company. Truly a woman of exceptional discernment, Jaime. I look forward to meeting her and only wish it were under more fortuitous circumstances.” Tywin’s tone was as urbane and conversational as ever but there was an edge of steel beneath the words. “Leave the matter with me, Jaime, I shall be there shortly.” He terminated the call before he was forced to listen to Jaime stutter out his gratitude.

  
……………………………………………………………….

  
By the time he had woken the Commissioner, to whom he felt no need to apologise, made contact with Brienne’s father, who had seemed even more surprised by the prospect of a relationship between their respective offspring than Tywin, and issued instructions to his driver to bring the car around, it was close to four in the morning. Tywin wondered briefly whether to push back his early morning golf round but decided the matter could wait, pending expeditious handling of the issue at hand. Satisfied that everything was arranged to his approval for the moment, he settled himself against the leather of the Bentley’s rear seat and allowed himself the luxury of resting his eyes for the brief journey from Red Keep down to Flea Bottom.

  
……………………………………………………………….

  
Tywin’s sangfroid was mildly tested upon arrival at the 14th Precinct by the officer responsible for his son’s arrest taking strong exception to Tywin’s quiet insistence that this was a matter which could and should be dealt with ‘without needing to trouble the courts’. After allowing the man, his prodigious stomach straining his belt almost to breaking point, to rant at him for several minutes about Jaime’s ‘entitled frat-boy antics’ and his ‘hiding behind his big ugly girlfriend’ Tywin caught sight of a bemused Selwyn Tarth in the foyer and dismissed Officer Baratheon from his attention, leaving the increasingly harassed looking Commissioner, who had arrived wearing what appeared to be bedroom slippers, to deal with the ramblings of his disgruntled underling. Tywin’s last thought of the man was to wonder why on Earth Jaime had not just fled on foot, as there certainly appeared little hope of Officer Baratheon participating in any sort of meaningful pursuit.

  
“Selwyn.” He nodded a polite acknowledgement of the other man’s presence. Although known to each other remotely in a business capacity they were barely more than acquaintances socially, and with little in common. Selwyn Tarth’s Sapphire Isles Brokerage House, although by no means small, specialised in Marine  & Shipping, whilst the scope of Lannister Holdings was both more extensive and far more diverse. Nonetheless, the Tarth’s were an old family, well known and well respected, and if Jaime truly was involved with a girl who Tywin had established, by means of a swift internet search, to be Selwyn Tarth’s sole heir then Tywin considered Jaime could certainly do far worse for himself.

  
Tywin extended a perfunctory hand which Selwyn grasped like a drowning man. “Tywin! What is all this nonsense about?! I had the most peculiar call from Brienne after I spoke to you! She said I wasn’t to come down here under any circumstances, that she was perfectly fine and it was all just an enormous misunderstanding but if the police couldn’t see it that way she was prepared to take a stand in court!”

  
Tywin endeavoured, as politely as possible, to remove his hand from the death grip Selwyn seemed unaware he had taken on it.

  
“From what I can understand it appears Jaime and …. err, Brienne? … were caught defacing public property. There was then some sort of fracas during which it is alleged a police officer was assaulted by one or both of them, I’m not entirely sure.”

  
Selwyn’s face shifted from shock to concern and back to shock as he struggled to process the explanation offered. “But, Brienne?! That’s not at all like her!”

  
There was a moment of frigid silence before Tywin raised an eyebrow infinitesimally, allowing the vaguest hint of surprise to play across his features.

  
Realising his error, Selwyn rushed to correct any possible misapprehension. “Obviously, not that I mean your son would … is in the habit … does … would do this sort of thing, Tywin, not at all, last thing I could possibly think!” He finally stuttered his way to silence and Tywin allowed the matter to drop, feeling no need to make the man feel more uncomfortable than he already did.

  
For now.

  
Fortunately neither man was forced to continue their discussion as the door at the far end of the foyer opened, disgorging their respective progeny.

  
Tywin’s first clue that the Amazonian female by Jaime’s side was Selwyn Tarth’s daughter was the shout of recognition Selwyn gave as he surged across the room towards the pair.

  
_Oh Good Gods, my grandchildren are going to be absolutely enormous_ , he found himself thinking in silent wonder, _and I can only hope they inherit their looks from Jaime_.


End file.
